


Sorry About The Door

by ratbandaid



Series: sylvix week 2020!! [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Breaking and Entering, Fluff and Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Mutual Pining, Neighbors, One Shot, Vampires, Werewolves, slightly ooc;;, werewolf!sylvain and vampire!felix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26573503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratbandaid/pseuds/ratbandaid
Summary: “Who are you?” the werewolf blurts, jumping back a little. In that moment, it’s like all the alcohol in his body seems to disappear, a sobered look seeping into his gaze. “Why are you in my apartment?”“Yourapartment?Yourfucking apartment?” Felix scoffs. “This ismyapartment, dumbass. Apartment 1315.”“What?” The werewolf squints his eyes. “That can’t be right.” He wipes his eyes, and stares at Felix again. “Wait. Oh my God.”Felix heaves a sigh and gives the man a withering look. He’s pretty much pieced this all together by now. “No. I’m right. You tore my door apart and broke into my apartment, thinking it was yours.”The man shakes his head. “No, not that." He doesn't wait for Felix to express his confusion before he goes, "Oh my God, Felix? Is that you?”-----My piece for Sylvix Week day 1: After the war/future | Wedding |Urban Fantasy AU
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: sylvix week 2020!! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932814
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	Sorry About The Door

**Author's Note:**

> I've never really written anything for urban fantasy, and I'm not very familiar with the genre, but from what I've seen on Google, the aesthetic is really nice!! 
> 
> I don't think I really managed to capture an urban fantasy setting, but I did my best, given my limited understanding of this genre!! ^^;;

The walls of Felix’s apartment run embarrassingly thin.

It’s an unfortunate truth, but one that he’s gotten used to since he moved in a month or so ago. He hears voices of passersby from the hallway, muffled but distinctly audible nonetheless. His upstairs neighbors stomp around hard enough to rattle his doors against their frames.

But what makes this truth haunt Felix the most is the neighbor living to his left. His damned neighbor is always having people over. Felix can hear women’s giggling, even through his cheap, ten dollar headphones that he picked up from the clearance aisle of their local grocery store. The bass from the shitty music he blasts practically shakes his walls, shakes the swords he has oh-so pleasingly stacked up on their stands.

And the moans. _God,_ the fucking moans. Felix can turn up his music all the way up, to the point where the bass makes his bones feel like they’re shaking and his thoughts a jumbled mess, and he can wear those headphones that crush his poor, pointed ears against the sides of his head all he wants, but he’ll still manage to hear some sort of noise.

At least Felix, being nocturnal, works the graveyard shift, so he doesn’t have to put up with the noise for too long. The worst of the noise seems to start up right as he gets up to go to work—assuming that the philanderer next door doesn’t throw a party in the evening and wake up Felix.

That doesn’t make it any less annoying though.

He’s tried to confront his neighbor, but that bastard never answers his door, and Felix is pretty sure the message he left on the door—a hastily written _You’re insufferably loud. Shut the fuck up_ on a napkin, left hanging by a dagger stabbed into the metal of the door—went ignored, though it was torn down when Felix checked the next day. He’s filed a complaint, but the landlord seems content not to do anything, facetiously telling him, “I'll talk to him, but there's really nothing I can do about it. The walls are just built thin. Sorry."

This is hell. This is seriously, honestly, without a doubt hell.

Felix isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve this. All he wanted to do was to move into the inner city to be cut down on his commute to work. Now, he’s starting to lose sleep from his neighbor’s raucous evening parties and has to listen to his midnight trysts.

-

Felix is in the middle of wiping the dregs of sleep from his eyes to get to work— _just five more minutes,_ he promises himself as sleep starts to seep into his body again—when he hears something unusual. He hears a banging at his front door, accompanied by the rattling of his swords against their stands on the wall and a voice cursing.

It wakes Felix right up.

Felix knows his other neighbors aren’t nocturnal. The other people living on this floor consist of a friendly siren whose voice could be heard faintly sometimes when she sings while cleaning her room or taking a shower and a kind elf who likes to stop by Felix's apartment to chat about stories that are usually related to old historical knights—and his mysterious, annoying neighbor. The siren and the elf stay up sometimes, but they’re never up at this time and they've never come at his door with such a fervency.

So who could be at his door?

Felix grabs a sword from his wall and stalks towards the door. His heart is pounding at the thought that he would have to fight someone, but he can't tell if it's fear or some sort of twisted excitement like the kind that his friend, Dimitri, used to have or simply adrenaline.

His visitor is banging even louder, and his curses are a little more audible.

“Fucking _door_ ,” Felix hears him mumbling. “I swear I left the fucking keys right here…”

The man outside gives a frustrated growl with one last slam against the door before the banging at the door completely stops and goes silent. Felix stares at the door. But after a beat of silence, he lowers his guard, starting to tuck his sword into his sheath.

Then the metal door lets out a creaking noise as it splits under the strength of the person on the other side. The metal caves in and snaps off. What’s still hanging from the hinges of the door swings open with ease, revealing a tall silhouette of a man with ears and a tail. A werewolf, maybe. Felix pulls his sword out in a flash and strikes a defensive pose.

"Who's there?” Felix demands, baring his fangs.

The intruder doesn’t seem to notice him, letting out a contented hum and wandering over to Felix’s couch. He flops down and sighs, shutting his eyes.

Perhaps Felix's senses are simply very sharp, or perhaps this man simply reeks. He smells of alcohol and a mix of a flowery perfume and musky cologne.

Felix hopes that awful scent doesn’t sink into his couch. He rather likes his couch and the way it smells like absolutely nothing, and he’d like to keep it that way.

Felix quietly walks over to the figure on his couch and points his sword at the figure. He tries to get a better look at him, just in case he makes a run for it and Felix needs to file a police report. His night vision reveals a man roughly his age, maybe a touch older, with tousled red hair in which his ears sprout from.

Felix inches closer, holding the sword a little closer to the man’s throat, the tip of the blade just an inch or two away from his Adam's apple.

The werewolf’s eyes open, and his lazy gaze drifts over to Felix. His eyes—a sort of light brown, Felix notes for his future police report—shoot open.

“Who are you?” the werewolf blurts, jumping back a little. In that moment, it’s like all the alcohol in his body seems to disappear, a sobered look seeping into his gaze. “Why are you in my apartment?”

“ _Your_ apartment? _Your_ fucking apartment?” Felix scoffs. “This is _my_ apartment, dumbass. Apartment 1315.”

“What?” The werewolf squints his eyes. “That can’t be right.” He wipes his eyes, and stares at Felix again. “Wait. Oh my God.”

Felix heaves a sigh and gives the man a withering look. He’s pretty much pieced this all together by now. “No. I’m right. You tore my door apart and broke into my apartment, thinking it was yours.”

The man shakes his head. “No, not that." He doesn't wait for Felix to express his confusion before he goes, "Oh my God, Felix? Is that you?”

The werewolf staggers to his feet, his eyes brightening with some kind of childish glee and his ears perking up.

It’s in that moment that Felix realizes that he knows the werewolf standing before him.

Sylvain Jose Gautier—his childhood best friend and the local Casanova. Felix met him through their parents, and they'd really gotten close over the years until they parted ways after college. Sylvain had been pretty good at wooing all sorts of girls and stealing their hearts with his sweet, honeyed words and his rugged, werewolf looks while they were in high school and college together.

He’d been pretty damn good at catching Felix’s eye too.

Fuck. No. This can’t be happening. This _seriously_ can’t be happening.

“It _is_ you!”

Sylvain’s tail wags quickly, side-to-side, and his smile doesn’t leave his face even for a second. Felix's heart jumps a little at the act, though he's quick to try and suppress the way his heart starts to beat quickly and a traitorous part of his mind supplies him with just one word: _cute_. Felix desperately tries to shut his brain up, instead trying to focus on the fact that his door has been completely and utterly destroyed.

It works a little.

Or maybe that's just wishful thinking.

“It’s good to see you again, Felix! I haven’t seen you since—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Felix waves dismissively. “Listen, what the hell are you going to do about my door?” Felix gestures frustratedly at his door. “You tore it to shreds, and I need to go to work.”

Sylvain follows Felix’s hand and whistles, running a hand through his hair. “Hm. That _is_ a problem, huh?” He looks over at Felix again. “I did that?”

“Yes,” Felix deadpans. It's pretty obvious he did. He should remember it, considering that it only happened a few minutes ago.

Sylvain’s tail slowly stops wagging, and his ears start to press against his head. He furrows his brows. “Fuck. Sorry, Fe. I thought—”

“I know.” Felix rubs his temples. “I _know_ you thought it was your apartment. You said that already. Just—just get the fuck out of my apartment. I need to get to work.”

Sylvain frowns. “You’re going to work? Well, you shouldn’t just leave when your door’s like that. What are you going to do if you get robbed?” Sylvain sits on the couch. “How about I housesit for you until you get back? Then we can settle this whole thing.”

Felix wants to object. He just wants Sylvain out of his home right now— _God,_ he can feel years of those stupid, repressed, romantic feelings starting to surface, just by looking at Sylvain’s face—but he’s really starting to run late for work. So he just nods at Sylvain and hurries to get dressed for work.

-

Felix exasperatedly flinches at the shrill sound of the drill and the repeated banging of a hammer against his door as his repairman fixes the door.

Felix thought that it would have been more efficient to buy a new door or to use a spell of some sort of mend the shredded door. There are plenty of spells out there. Felix swears he sees hundreds of them a day, ranging from levitation to fire to invisibility. Yet the landlord insisted on having this specific repairman, and this specific repairman seems to believe that traditional methods of repair are superior.

Maybe Felix _should_ have taken the last few semesters of magic so he could have learned a spell to fix the door himself and saved himself and Sylvain some money. After all, he has the inclination for it. He has the work ethic. It would have worked fine as an elective, but _no_ , he just _had_ to go and take an extra P.E. class and personal finance.

Well, they weren't complete wastes of time and money, at the very least, so that's fine.

So now here he is, sitting at his table with Sylvain, trying to enjoy his meal while the dwarf repairman fixes his door.

"Sorry again about the door," Sylvain says sheepishly, after what seems like an eternity of silence.

"Shut up. Don't apologize again." Felix clicks his tongue. “Anyway, how’d you even confuse our apartments? What apartment do you live in?”

“1316.” Sylvain leans back in his chair and folds his arms above his head with a small smile. “Guess that 5 at the end looked like a 6 when I was tipsy."

Felix blinks. 1316? The bastard to his left? The one who’s always playing music and having people over? The one whose _moans_ have been drilling themselves into his ears and haunting Felix for the past month? Slamming his hands on the table and standing with a jolt, Felix shoots Sylvain a glare and points an accusatory finger at him. Sylvain sits down properly and stares at Felix in shock.

“It’s _you,_ ” Felix snarls. “ _You’re_ the insufferable dick who keeps throwing all those fucking parties and keeping me up all night.”

Sylvain blinks, furrows his brow, and mouths the word, ‘insufferable’ before laughing light-heartedly. “Then you’re the guy who left that note on my door!”

“Of course I am! How am I supposed to sleep when you blast music like that?” He lets out a frustrated growl. “And don’t get me started on your fucking one night stands, Sylvain.”

Sylvain laughs a little. “Do they bother you that much?” he asks innocently.

“Don’t be stupid. Of course they do.” Felix sits back down with a loud sigh. _Probably not for the reason you’re thinking._ Felix shakes that thought out of his quickly. He does _not_ need to be thinking these kinds of things. “It’s annoying. And loud.” He grimaces. “And I don’t need to be hearing that.”

Sylvain chuckles softly, smiling a little. Felix catches a brief glimpse of his sharp canines.

Though he’s desperate not to fall into his old feelings again, Felix can’t help but to think about how much more handsome Sylvain’s come. He’s kept his unruly red hair the same, though he’s parted it a little differently than before, now in middle rather than to one side. It gives him a more mature look, shows off more of this face. His face has grown just a touch sharper, and there’s a faint spotting of red hair along his chin and jawline.

Felix remembers how Sylvain used to curse his werewolf genes, hinting at how embarrassed he was about his body hair. He insisted that he’d rather be a vampire like Felix. Felix can’t imagine Sylvain like him—undead with sickly, cold skin. It wouldn’t suit Sylvain, who was warm and lively and _colorful_ in every conceivable way.

 _If he really wanted me to, though,_ he had thought back then as Sylvain sprawled out on his bed at the dorms, his shirt riding up a little and showing a hint of his abs and the trail of red hair leading down that caught Felix’s eyes for just a second too long, _I’d turn him. In a heartbeat. No questions asked. Whatever it takes._

Felix had immediately felt bad about thinking something so selfish, so embarrassingly self-indulgent, so shameless.

But right now, the more Felix looks at him, the more he realizes how much he’s missed Sylvain. Not even as a romantic prospect. As a friend. His laugh, like a pleasant chime to his ears. His playfulness and kindness, hand-in-hand like how he and Sylvain used to be as kids, not one without the other. His smile, like a warmth that Felix feels he’ll never get to know—a warmth like what Felix can only imagine what the sun feels like.

Felix missed him. He’s missed him a lot.

"Alright, well, I’ll try to be a little more conscious of it,” Sylvain is saying. “Just for you.”

Sylvain is staring expectantly. His smile falters with every second of silence that Felix leaves him in. He’s waiting for a response.

Felix clears his throat and schools his expression into something practiced and plain, pushing away all his pining and sentimental thoughts. “Good. Thanks.”

-

Felix wasn’t actually expecting Sylvain to abide by those words.

He hears minimal noise from Sylvain’s apartment from that day on. No more parties that shake the entire apartment complex, no more midnight moaning, no more anything. It’s like Sylvain had a complete 180 switch.

Felix isn’t complaining at all. It’s the best he’s slept in a while.

But he wonders if he’s stifling Sylvain’s social life in any way. That isn’t what he wants. He doesn’t want to tie down Sylvain’s social life and cage him like an animal. He just wants some peace and quiet from time to time. The occasional party is fine. Hell, he can have as many people over as he wants as long as Felix isn’t home when it happens.

Sylvain insists that he's doing just fine. He goes out to parties rather than staying home. And he's still in touch with friends. After all, he comes over to visit Felix from time to time.

They’ll spend some time chatting, catching up from the time they’ve lost; they’ll eat together, whether they order something or try to scrap something together in Felix’s kitchen. They’ll just hang out, as if nothing’s ever changed.

It makes Felix happy. It’s the highlight of his day, if he’s entirely honest. His apartment, once quiet, comes to life whenever Sylvain is around. Colors look brighter, sounds are _happier_ , in a way. And when he leaves, his apartment becomes dull and sullen, silent and lonely.

Sylvain’s regular visits really start after Sylvain comes home hammered again from a nearby bar. And he mistakenly breaks down Felix’s door. Again. Felix got a sense of déjà vu when Sylvain tried to accuse him of being in the wrong apartment.

“Do I need to put a fucking fence between our apartments?” Felix scolded him the next day as the repairman fixed his door again. Sylvain just laughed. “It’d keep dogs like you out of my apartment.”

“Dog? Hey!” Sylvain pulled his lips a dramatic pout. “That’s rude. I’m not a dog. I’m a wolf.” His pout faded, eased into a small smile. “Anyway, don’t bother building a fence. I’d probably end up breaking that too. Just let me break your door. You don’t have to worry about the costs—I’ll pay for it.”

“It’s not about the door, Sylvain. It’s about the fact that I think someone’s breaking in every time you do this.”

Sylvain hummed. “Then give me a key.”

Felix, in the middle of taking a sip of his tea, nearly spit all over the table and Sylvain. “What?” he asked. If he were properly alive—if his heart were beating—his face would have been an embarrassing shade of scarlet, his heart beating hard in his chest.

“Give me a key. If I have a key, I won’t break your door, right? And no one else has a key but you, so if you hear the lock, it’s gotta be me.”

Felix just stared at him.

Sylvain laughed. “I’m kidding, Felix. I’m not genuinely asking you to give me your key.”

Felix’s hopes fell and he scrambled to defend himself from Sylvain’s light teasing, but internally, he scolded himself for being so hopeful in the first place. Of _course_ Sylvain didn’t mean it. It was wishful thinking, Felix wanting that bit of warmth, of life, to stay in his apartment just a touch longer. It was just his stupid thoughts getting in the way of rationality.

Anyway, it’d be kind of weird to give Sylvain a key without an actual reason, like if he were cat-sitting or something like that. Felix is pretty sure _preventing you from breaking down my fucking door_ doesn’t count as a real reason.

_Then shouldn’t I give him a reason? If we were—_

Felix shuts down that line of thought immediately.

-

Sylvain breaks down his door again, for the third time, one night. By now, Felix is starting to get used to the sound of Sylvain mumbling drunkenly to himself outside his door before the banging starts.

Only this time, it’s a little different. Sylvain isn’t mumbling about losing his keys again. Instead, he’s muttering to himself something about Felix. His words are little hard to decipher, but what he does catch is Sylvain asking, “Felix, are you home?” though it comes out more like _Feeeeelix, are you hoooooooome?_

“Hold on,” Felix calls back, pulling on a pair of pants as he heads to the door. “I’m coming. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He’s too late. By the time Felix is just a few feet away from the door, Sylvain’s already struck it with his hand hard enough to dent it and pawed his way in.

Felix sighs loudly. “I told you to wait. Now look what you’ve done.”

"I didn’t want to wait.” Sylvain takes a few steps closer to Felix and smiles, leaning in. He’s just a hairsbreadth away from Felix’s face. “Don’t worry. I’ll pay for the door.”

Felix narrows his eyes. “You’d better.” Sylvain laughs. “Okay, so what? Why are you here?” Felix puts a hand on his hip. “What’s so important that you can’t wait until after I’m done with work?”

Sylvain’s smile falls. “Oh.” He averts his gaze. “Actually, I was wondering something.”

Felix raises an eyebrow. It must be serious.

"I’m listening.”

Sylvain’s gaze travels from the kitchen behind Felix to the ceiling to the couch to Felix’s left before finally settling on Felix.

"Well, see, I had a question.”

"Stop stalling and spit it out. I don’t have all day.”

Sylvain swallows and stares at Felix a little longer. His mouth opens, and Felix watches intently, waiting for words that he’s only ever dreamed of—three, little words that would make him feel like he’s springing to life. The silence, the tension, between them stretches out longer and longer as Sylvain thinks of what he wants to say, his mouth forming different words.

But in the end, he ends up saying, “Can I spend the night here?”

He clearly, _clearly_ meant to say something else. That much is obvious to Felix. It leaves Felix wanting more. Wanting to know the truth.

Felix lets out a sigh. Really disappointed—that’s a really tame way of saying how emotionally fucking blue-balled he feels—but honestly? He’s not surprised at all. “Fine. Sure. Is that all?”

Sylvain brightens a little. It’s a façade, Felix thinks.

"Yup! Thanks.”

-

Felix stares at Sylvain’s door, at the scratched numbers on the sticker with the apartment numbers written in bold. Sylvain’s been inviting him over. For what reason, Felix isn’t entirely sure, but he just knows two things: he’s here, and he’s here with a mission.

He’s going to tell Sylvain how he feels.

It’s abrupt, he knows. It’s stupid, embarrassing, and risky. He knows. He’s been thinking about this since he accepted Sylvain’s invitation. It’s been on his mind all day at work. He’s dreamed of it and all the ways it could go wrong. But he’s still determined to go through with it.

Felix can’t live with these feelings anymore. They’re driving him insane. Knowing that his best friend, that his _crush_ , lives just next door and loves to come over to spend time with him is just too much. With every day that Sylvain comes by, Felix feels himself slipping more and more, losing to these obnoxious and overwhelming feelings of love.

He doesn’t want to pine anymore.

He doesn’t want to long for Sylvain’s rough hands on him, doesn’t want to think of grabbing Sylvain’s stupid face and crushing their lips together, doesn’t want to think of running his tongue over Sylvain’s pointy canines. He doesn’t want to see Sylvain tinkering around in his kitchen or lying on his couch or sitting across from him as they eat together and _not_ have him. He swears, he sees a ghost of Sylvain everywhere in his apartment, a constant reminder that he’s close with the werewolf—but not close enough.

So he’s going to do it. He’s going to hate himself afterwards when Sylvain inevitably rejects him and cuts him off, but he has to do it. This love is smothering him and leaving him braindead.

If he doesn’t get his feelings out to Sylvain, if he can’t just tell Sylvain the truth in this lifetime, will he ever get a chance?

Felix isn’t sure how long he’s been staring at this door, but it’s probably been too damn long. If any of their other neighbors have been watching him, they might be inclined to think that Felix is a stalker of some kind, and what Felix really _doesn’t_ need right now is the cops to be called on him.

Felix raps his knuckles against the metal and waits, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. To his surprise, the door opens nearly immediately, and Sylvain is there, his tail excitedly wagging behind him.

“Hey, Felix! You’re here!”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Felix scoffs as he steps inside of Sylvain's apartment. “I live next door. It’s not like it takes me forever to come over.”

Sylvain’s apartment is about what Felix expects. It’s neat, not a speck of dust to be seen and not a book or accessory out of place. All the furniture matches. It’s fully decorated, unlike Felix’s apartment, which has patches of empty spaces along the wall where Felix couldn’t think of anything to put there. And it smells faintly of Sylvain’s cologne.

They do as they usually do—eat and chat and turn on some music or show for background noise. It’s easygoing, pleasant. Yet, Felix is tense and nervous, jiggling his leg impatiently as his intention to confess lies heavy in his head like an anchor. Sylvain seems to notice.

“What’s on your mind?” Sylvain asks. “You look stressed.”

Felix steadies his breathing. This is his chance, and he takes it.

“Sylvain. I need to tell you something important—” Sylvain raises his eyebrows—“but I need you to reserve judgment until I’m done talking. Got it?”

Sylvain nods. “Sure.”

Felix is tempted to push him on that— _don’t give me ‘sure,’ give me something more definitive, more promising—_ but he’s losing morale the longer he hesitates, so he lets it slide.

“Sylvain, I…” Felix hesitates. His resolve shakes. His happiest memories with Sylvain flash through his head. It’s like his brain is desperately trying to sway him from confessing, like it’s trying to tell him, _you’re going to lose all this and more if you continue._

“Felix?”

“I like you.” He forces the words out of his mouth quickly, like they burn his tongue the longer he keeps them there. He says them like he can’t say them fast enough, but it shuts up his brain, and it helps him feel light. Free. Honest. “I like you,” he says again, a little slower now. “No, that’s not… I love you.”

There’s a thick pause. Felix knows that there's hundreds, no _thousands,_ of words he can say to try and justify his love for Sylvain, starting back from when they were young and touching on every little positive trait he's seen in Sylvain, but he finds it hard to speak. As soon as he'd squeezed that confession through his mouth, his brain seems to have stopped functioning entirely.

Felix can’t bring himself to look directly at Sylvain, but waiting for him to turn his head away in disgust, to call him names, to tell him how awful he is and how much he hates him and…

“Felix…”

His voice isn’t tinged with anger or fear or disgust. He sounds happy.

Felix dares to look at Sylvain’s face.

Sylvain’s smiling. He’s smiling at him.

“Do you mean it?” he asks. “You love me?”

Sylvain sounds so touched, so surprised, so _happy._ Felix isn’t sure that he’s ever seen Sylvain like this before. It shocks him so much, catches him so off-guard, that Felix feels his breath catch in his throat. His voice doesn’t seem to want to cooperate with him, so he just gives a solemn nod.

Sylvain beams at him and stands up from where he’s sitting. He closes the distance between him and Felix in a few strides and pulls Felix into a tight hug. Felix isn’t used to people touching him, so he freezes up a little—but Sylvain is warm. He’s warm everywhere, and he holds him tightly.

And if Felix stays completely still, he can feel how the delighted wags of Sylvain’s tail practically reverberates through Sylvain’s body and transfers to him.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.” Sylvain lets go of Felix. Immediately, Felix craves the warmth of Sylvain’s body once more. “I’ve been wanting to say the same thing to you for the past, like, _decade_.” Sylvain laughs a little, a relieved laugh.

But Felix knows Sylvain. He knows that what Sylvain did then wasn’t love. It wasn’t even genuine attraction at times—just something to give himself the feeling of being loved, even if it’s for a night. And given Sylvain’s reaction just now, maybe it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to say that Sylvain stopped bringing people home entirely because he realized that Felix was back in town.

Felix will trust him.

He reaches up with his hands. One hand cradles Sylvain’s cheek, and the other cards through Sylvain’s hair, just barely brushing past one of his fluffy ears. Sylvain watches him patiently, tilting his head in towards Felix's hand and flicking his ears forward towards Felix, as if he can't bear to go one second without hearing what Felix has to say.

“I love you,” Sylvain says quietly, his tawny eyes fixed on Felix’s. Felix leans forward, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss _._

_-_

The banging at Felix’s front door, just barely audible over the sound of the drums and the bass playing through his headphones, pulls him away from the music he’s listening to while washing the dishes. Felix turns the sink off, wipes his hands on his pants, pulls his headphones down, and looks at the digital clock on his grease-covered stovetop. It’s about time for Sylvain to come home, but why would he be knocking like that?

Felix jumps a little at the sound of the metal of the door crunching and squealing as it becomes twisted and distorted. He catches a familiar, clawed hand coming through a hole he’d just made in the door before grasping at the lock. After fumbling a little with the lock, it clicks, and he bats at the doorknob.

The door cracks open, and Sylvain pops his head in with a grin.

“Honey, I’m home!” he calls out teasingly.

Felix ignores his greeting, instead giving him a cross look and putting a hand on his hip. He gestures at the door. “Sylvain, what the hell? You have a key.”

Sylvain steps into Felix’s apartment—no, it’s _their_ apartment now. They live together now. “I know. But I left it in here before I left.”

“And the only thing you could think to do was break the fucking door again?” Felix shakes his head. “You’re paying for that.”

Sylvain laughs. “Sorry about the door.”

He’s not sorry. Not one bit. Asshole.

“You reckless moron.” But Felix loves that about him, just as much as he loves anything else about Sylvain. He pulls Sylvain down by his collar for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Had to rush the pacing a little because I need to get started on the other Sylvix week entries, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!!!


End file.
